


My Favorite Colour is Crimson, Like What's Leaking from your Throat.

by BellaDrowned69 (SodiumChl0ride)



Category: South Park
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-06 21:38:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10345098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SodiumChl0ride/pseuds/BellaDrowned69
Summary: Night has settled upon the small town of South Park, Colorado. Perhaps it's the darkness that keeps her from noticing how much of a monster he is, or perhaps she's too far lost in the rock of his hips.Either way, she ended up dead in an alleyway by the hand of Damien Thorn.Or, the time Damien killed a prostitute off of the streets





	

A forked tongue flicked against her skin and trailed up her neck, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake. A pale hand was around her waist and was proceeding to slowly move lower. Vibrant scarlet eyes were barely visible from underneath the hair covering them, which was a shade similar to the ebony of all his clothes. The only things making the pair stand out was his unnaturally pale white skin, and the delicious moans coming from the skimpily dressed woman squirming in his grasp. She was no doubt a whore, selling her body for either money or pleasure. Most likely both.  
He breathed out slowly against her neck before pressing his lips to the flesh and peppering her with light kisses. Another noise was ripped from her throat as his sharp, curved fangs sank into her skin and the sounds of gross sucking filled the empty alleyway.  
He had her begging for more within moments but his only reply was a low chuckle. “You like that, hmm~?” he purred with a voice of silk. She nodded her head vigorously, and his free hand made its way down on himself. However, it didn’t go as low to even pass his waistband. His slender fingers curled around an object concealed in his pocket, but she seemed to be much more focused on the bites he was proceeding to mark her neck with than what his hands were doing.  
“Such a good little whore,” he breathed, hand working its way out of his pocket, “so easily melting into me like putty in my hands… I bet you’ve done this a hundred times, huh, bitch?”  
She once again nodded, grinding back into him but he only stepped back and let go of her. The prostitute rather quickly spun around to gaze at him, her eye shadow-covered eyelids half over her dull hazel eyes. His gaze, however, was such an obvious crimson color and seemed to glow in the dim lighting only provided by the full moon. He seemed to be rather focused on her, although that one hand of his was preoccupied with whatever he held in his pocket.  
“Your name…” she started out of the blue. “I want to know what I’ll be screaming as you ravish me… Or, would you prefer daddy…?” she bit her lip, just trying to get him to actually looked aroused, at least it could be presumed. Instead of a reply, she was met with his fist suddenly curling around her throat. No panic flickered through her eyes, of course. Some guys just want it rough- and she assumed he was one of those guys. But what kind of sixteen year old actually went out with prostitutes like her? The answer would certainly not include the male subject involved.  
Suddenly a squeal was heard from her as he revealed the object he had been hiding all along--a six inch long silver dagger. “W-what’re you….?” she attempted to ask, but the grasp at her neck just got tighter and more restricting. It was cutting off her airway, tighter and tighter, until she was left wheezing for breath and the air would barely pass through  
“Earth,” he sneered. “Females are out on the streets getting money for cheap thrills, and to be used as fucking cum buckets. Lust… That’s your deadly sin. It’s always lust with the girls, huh?” He rolled his eyes, which narrowed immediately afterwards. “You’ve probably helped dozens of filthy men become unfaithful to those in which they love blindly. Disgusting.”  
The knife blade replaced his hand at her throat, pressing in far enough that it drew blood, but nothing more. He met her green-brown gaze with his own blood red eyes. They seemed to burn with fire, flames dancing amongst the irises and illuminating his face with their red light. The woman whimpered and grasped at the silver inverted cross hanging off the necklace around his throat. She yanked on it in a weak attempt to get him to stop it and to drop the knife- and weak it was indeed.  
However, it didn’t seem to affect him in the least bit. He scoffed at her actions and dug the dagger further into her skin, slowly tearing it through her flesh until crimson poured out of the wound. He shoved her backwards and took a step back himself so the toes of his boots were just barely outside of the blood puddle forming already beneath them.  
Her hands flew up to her neck, but then fell back down when the red liquid coated her fingers. And then the screaming began, ringing out crisp in the cold autumn air. “Hey! Did I fucking say that you could make a noise, slut?” he spat out. His grasp on the knife tightened until his knuckles were white--well, whiter than the rest of him, judging by how pale he was he never went out in the sunlight--before plunging it into her stomach. She cried out again in utter pain and he watched in disgust as she fell to her knees, sobbing pathetically.  
“No… P-please, no, stop it…” she begged.  
“Shut up,” he replied with a sneer. His foot came out, the steel toes of his boot making contact with her potentially fatal wound. He dug the leather footwear into it until the noise of squishing, and her screams, louder now, became audible. Damien retracted his foot and slammed it back into her, just repeating and repeating the action until her screams faded with her last breath and she was left dead on the cold, hard ground.


End file.
